Proserpine and Midas

Proserpine and Midas

by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Epub (Kobo), Epub (Adobe)
Publication Date: 14/03/2016

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The Hours have oped the palace of the dawn

And through the Eastern gates of Heaven, Aurora

Comes charioted on light, her wind-swift steeds,

Winged with roseate clouds, strain up the steep.

She loosely holds the reins, her golden hair,

Its strings outspread by the sweet morning breeze[,]

Blinds the pale stars. Our rural tasks begin;

The young lambs bleat pent up within the fold,

The herds low in their stalls, & the blithe cock

Halloos most loudly to his distant mates.

But who are these we see? these are not men,

Divine of form & sple[n]didly arrayed,

They sit in solemn conclave. Is that Pan,

Our Country God, surrounded by his Fauns?

And who is he whose crown of gold & harp

Are attributes of high Apollo?

ISBN:
9788892569966
9788892569966
Category:
Plays
Format:
Epub (Kobo), Epub (Adobe)
Publication Date:
14-03-2016
Language:
English
Publisher:
Skyline
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

The childhood of Mary Shelley (1797 – 1851), sounds rather like a dark fairy-tale. Her mother died giving birth to her and she was brought up by a remote father and a step-mother who hated her. Her step-sister was a depressive and later committed suicide and Mary had little in common with her step-brother or her half-brother. As a young girl, she escaped into books and would often read by the side of her mother's tomb.

In 1813 Mary met Percy Bysshe Shelley. He was only twenty-one but was already unhappily married. He was destined to be one of the geniuses of English poetry. The two fell in love and eloped, despite Mary's age. Her father, William Godwin, disowned her, but still she and Shelley were married in 1816. They settled in Italy but tragedy seemed to follow them. Only one of their four children lived very long and then, in 1822, when he was just thirty, Shelley was drowned. Mary lived for another thirty years but she lost the promise that she had shown in the company of her brilliant husband and his friends, such as the poet Lord Byron. The single book that we remember her for belonged to her happy time in Italy.

It was Byron who suggested in 1817, that they each write a horror story. The result in Mary's case, was Frankenstein. As well as being creepier than most other books in the genre, Frankenstein has a far better story-line and is in the end, both moving and tragic. Amazingly, a young girl of twenty gave us the book whose name has become synonymous with horror.

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